


Red Sky at Night

by LadyLaela (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Character Death, Kink Meme, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LadyLaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it weren't for John, he'd have jumped in long ago. Probably not much after they'd dumped Bro's body unceremoniously over in the clean up from that boarding. He lived for tiny secret shared glances with big blue eyes, these days. They were what kept him going, aside from a burning need to be there to protect John, a need as desperate and instinctive as breathing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Sky at Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the Kink Meme! Requester wanted Dave/John inspired by the song Gay Pirate by Cosmo Jarvis. I do suggest you listen to the song even though the fic can be totally independent of it, because it's one of the most _beautiful and sad love songs ever oh my GOD_.

Dave braced as the whip licked his back again. He didn't wince, but couldn't help the corner of his mouth pulling back in a tight grimace. The first mate didn't seem to care about laying him open any more, and that was a damn bad sign. He could feel raw, numb lines across his back, and wondered vaguely if he was bleeding yet. It was a desperate, madman's thought, but he found himself praying that once he bled they'd let him go. His shoulders spasmed involuntarily as another stroke painted fire across his flesh, and he cursed himself for the weakness.

His brother had taken a couple of lashes quite frequently, being a hell of a good munitions officer but a tad too mouthy for the captain's liking. He had never flinched – was still smiling defiantly as he was let up.

This was more than a few lashes, and he could feel the eyes of all the crew on his dirty and abused back. He hoped John wasn't watching this. He couldn't stand John seeing him broken and bloody and hurting. He didn't want John being scared, and he especially didn't want him trying to step in. It'd been made very clear to Dave on multiple occasions that he'd better take his every punishment happily, or they'd give it double to John.

He hoped John was averting his eyes as he'd pleaded him to the next time this happened.

He hoped wherever his brother was now, he couldn't see this.

He hoped it would be over soon.

Dave dropped weakly to the stinking deck of the ship when the ropes holding his wrists were finally cut. He couldn't stop his arms from shaking. Still, all he could think was that if John came over to him now he'd smack the idiot himself. He'd tried so hard to drill that into John's trusting, loving little head - _they will hurt you too_.

Dave wished like hell that his brother was still around to talk to. Having the crazy bastard at his back had made him feel so much stronger. He kept telling himself he'd never forgive Bro for dying, but even he knew that wasn't true.

He used the deck rails to lever himself to his feet. His world swam around him, and it wasn't just because of the horizon swaying against the motion of the boat.

A kick knocked the breath out of him as the crew filtered back to where they were actually supposed to be. The captain was shouting orders, but Dave was too fixated on the rolling sea below to listen.

If it weren't for John, he'd have jumped in long ago. Probably not much after they'd dumped Bro's body unceremoniously over in the clean up from that boarding. He lived for tiny secret shared glances with big blue eyes, these days. They were what kept him going, aside from a burning need to be there to protect John, a need as desperate and instinctive as breathing.

Late, late that night Dave was put on watch in the bow, and his heart stopped as he heard footsteps coming up the ladder from the hold. He was far more vulnerable like this; there was no authority around to stop them from going too far. Already he could barely close his eyes without images of _sweatlaughterhumiliationpain_ lighting up behind his lids, of John having his head held to watch as the crewmembers pinned him down and stripped him naked, and the tearing agony he felt down below was nothing compared to the clench of his heart as he heard John's horrified, pitying whimpers.

The gods of the sea were smiling on him in ways they rarely dared to. It was John's tousled dark head that he saw through the hatch, and soon the young man was scrambling towards him with an expression of near panic on his face. “D-Dave... oh god, how bad does it hurt?”

Dave shrugged. He'd been dealt worse, and as long as they hadn't laid a hand on John it was no pain at all.

Then John's arms were around him, and any agony was worth that little respite. He held the smaller man close, his own arms tight around that perfect waist, and shook only a bit with love as his pillar of strength.

“I... I can't see this happen to you any more,” he said, and it raked at something deep inside Dave to hear him so tearful.

But he had to be firm, and he knew it. “Don' you dare say a word, John. Get in their way and they'll fuck with you, too. It'd kill me if they did any of this shit to you, okay?”

“H-how do you think it makes me feel?” John said, his voice hitching and breaking and Dave squeezed him tighter, savouring every moment of the feel of him because he'd have this to fill his mind for the next who knew how long.

“Soon, babe...” Dave whispered, resting his forehead against John's. “Soon we're gonna go away; where no one can touch us.”

John nodded, looking scared and tearful but determined. It had long been the plan. “It's time,” he said, his voice rough and quiet and strung with enough emotion to strike a chord deep in Dave's gut.

Dave touched their lips together with little hesitation but exceeding tenderness. Things had gone too far, and they were both nearing the end of their rope.

It was time.

 

John's fingers gently traced the badly healing cuts on Dave's feet, prompting the redhead to hiss softly in pain.

“... they're infected,” John said, worry heavy in his voice. “How are you walking on them?”

Dave graced him with a tiny smile, something only John had the privilege of seeing. “It doesn' matter, babe. None a'that matters anymore. Don't you worry about me.”

John sighed, biting his lip in that characteristic and adorable way he had. “... I can't exactly _help_ it, Dave. H-how do you...”

Placing a finger to the brunet's lips to shush him, Dave was glad they were alone, holed away in some little corner of the ship. Still, his gaze flicked around in paranoia, terrified someone would drag John away from him, beat them both this time.

Dave could take it. Not John. Never John.

Then their lips were pressed together in one of their rare and wonderful kisses. John was on Dave's lap, his filthy tunic askew and falling off one shoulder; it was too big for him and it always had been and that slip of skin was beautiful.

Soon Dave was parting the fabric, pressing hungry kisses over unwashed skin and not caring. John was gasping and whining, clinging to whatever bit of the bigger man he could reach. They'd touched each other before, quick and quiet and so few times they could be counted on one hand, but this time there was a desperation that drove them to _more_ and _now_.

Hands explored with feverish passion bodies that they'd longed to know well for ages. Lips met over and over, clothing discarded to bare territory hardly glimpsed in those quick and frightened times before. John's hands were so very gentle, smoothing over the hurt of old wounds with a loving touch and carefully avoiding the fresh ones. It was the only healing Dave would ever get, and he was sure it was all he needed.

John couldn't seem to get close enough to him, and it was the most perfect and incredible thing the world had ever given him even before the brunet started asking – and then started begging. Dave did not intend to disappoint him, wanted to know him everywhere, and he only had his own spit to slick the way but a little rum from the barrel in the corner numbed him soon enough, made him soft and giggly and relaxed in the bigger man's arms.

After that, there was only a little discomfort, but Dave was worried and cautious and beyond scared that this would feel like it did for him when the crew pinned him down and had their way, but John's faces and soft mewls of pleasure reassured him better than any words ever could. They exchanged kiss after kiss, and Dave had never felt anything so incredible in his life, nothing could compare to being this close to his John.

When it was over, they simply curled up, nude and basking in their bliss, and let themselves drift into a fulfilled and safe sleep.

 

It was the last of their safety. They were in hell when they woke.

Dave fought to get free when as he watched a wide-eyed and terrified John get dragged away from him, helpless as in all his worst nightmares. He fought like his brother would have. In the end, they beat him into submission like he knew they must, and all he could do was pray they didn't bring John back dead eyed and with blood down his thighs. The very thought made his stomach roll and flip with utter revulsion. Not John. Please, not John.

He licked his split lip and revelled in the sting, gazing at them defiantly with the one eye that wasn't swollen shut. He had the dignity of his breeches but nothing else, and the cool sea air stung the still-raw marks from the cat o'nine. His hands were bound so tightly behind his back that they were going numb and cold, and the cannonball chained to his feet held him in place near the railing.

Dave had never felt more alive.

John was dragged out to stand beside him, bruised up and cut and scared but looking nearly as defiant in his own, frightened way. The way his shoulders had been twisted back to tie his hands looked so painful, and Dave wanted to take anything John felt and pull it into himself, take away his agony and fear and leave him clean and innocent and free.

For not the first time, Dave's eyes wandered to the big cannon on the deck, the heaviest the ship carried and where his brother had spent most of his time. He could almost see him there, all red hair and sunburn and hat pulled so low his eyes were almost invisible. That omnipresent amused look that could so easily turn into a huge devious grin. Bro's after-image glanced up from packing gunpowder, his smile slowly widening as he caught Dave's eye.

Dave turned back to meet the horizon, paying no heed to the chants and jeers of the crew. He was grabbed again, roughly, and his gaze captured John's as he was also slowly shoved over the rail.

Blue said to red, _I love you,_ but mostly, _finally_.

Red said back, _I love you,_ but mostly, _we've waited so long_.

As Dave hit the water the salt stung his eyes but he still managed to see the tower of bubbles bloom beside him. He could not be more thankful that there was no way he'd be able to see John's instinctive fight to swim. He closed his eyes.

Dave relaxed, and let the burning need to breathe envelop and choke him, and all he could think was

 _safe now..._


End file.
